


The Carousel

by Bobblychicken



Category: Cars (Movies), Planes (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:52:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7164026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobblychicken/pseuds/Bobblychicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Requested by Anon on Tumblr. Just a short, sweet drabble of Skipper and Dusty cuteness. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Carousel

Somewhere, a voice sings. Not a voice as you may understand it, but simply more the ethereal embodiment of will and intention. Of a need to find. A sad song. A plaintive cry, bursting forth in an ever-expanding wave that raced through the atmosphere, unseen and largely unfelt by those without the proper receptacle to take in and process it.

_"I am here. Where are you?"_

And somewhere else, far away, another voice is searching, singing balefully.

_**"I am lonely."** _

Dusty Crophopper was just saying goodbye to Clarice Watson at JFK.

_"Far from home..."_

What was supposed to be a month stay had on short notice been extended to a year, and she had called the crop duster-turned-racer in a tearful panic, and he had wasted no time in flying out and spared no expense helping her get into more suitable, semi-permanent living conditions.

_**"I can't feel you."** _

Lord knows Dusty loved to shop, and he especially loved buying presents; it would always threaten to give Skipper a stroke every time the Corsair would find out he'd gone out shopping.

_"Are you there?"_

The human girl and plane had made a time of it the week that he was there, exploring the city and trying out different restaurants, Clarice keeping up her due diligence in scoping out all the good places to eat for him.

_**"I miss you."** _

"Is there anything else you need from me?" Dusty asked at the airport as Clarice hugged him tightly, nuzzling her.

"No, I'll be alright now," the girl answered, giving him a small kiss on the nose. "I can't thank you enough for coming out here like this. You saved my life."

"Ah, don't mention it. Just try to keep them from making you stay any longer, okay?"

_"Where did you go?"_

The orange and white racer took off, sad to be leaving Clarice, but looking forward to getting back home to the wide open spaces he was used to.

_**"When are you coming back?"** _

After stopping to rest at Detroit Metropolitan, Dusty continued on his way, and as he passed over Chicago, the landscape began to change, and with it, a sudden, familiar ping of sentiment, sending a hopeful ripple of excited familiarity through his frame.

_"You're near."_

Great expanses of gold and green patches rolled out on the ground below him, and the little plane found himself smiling wider.

_**"I can feel you."** _

The plateau upon which most of Propwash Junction sat appeared on the horizon, and as he radioed the tower to announce his approach, the feeling of home assaulted him as the heart of him sang.

_"You're close."_

He touched down, immediately setting off to find the one person he was most looking forward to seeing, following the silvery aura, subtle but poignant as a warm breath on a cold winter's day.

_**"You're here!"** _

_"You're here!"_

Skipper and Dusty quickly taxied excitedly toward one another, the larger plane refraining with considerable difficulty from leaping up to meet his smaller Companion for fear of hurting him, and so simply let Dusty come crashing into him.

"Oof!" the Corsair grunted as Dusty fell upon him, nearly knocking the old warbird to the ground, "Ugh, careful with me you overgrown propling!" Skipper laughed.

Dusty only giggled, biting and nipping at the Navy plane. He went around behind him, gripping and pulling playfully at Skipper's tail, and with no more words spoken the two Bonded Companions commenced sparring.

Their Souls leapt in joyous ecstasy as they did, rearing up as they faked each other out. Skipper would gather himself up to charge, Dusty bowing and dodging, and then the little plane would dart down low to the side and make his move. Then his larger companion would spin around so precisely, as a bullfighter, catching Dusty by the tail in his teeth as he passed where the sudden halt in momentum would drop him to the ground. Skipper scolded the racer, laughing, before Dusty came surging up from the grass, determined smile etched into his features as he ran a circle around him, coming up on his left flank and jumping up and landing heavily against it. He clambered up the older plane's frame as high as he could, and Skipper would twist and toss in half-hearted attempts to throw him off. Dusty practically had Skipper mounted, so small was he compared to the Navy plane, as his jaws bit, squeezing with firm pressure in the place behind Skipper's canopy.

Thinking that he'd indulged his smaller companion long enough, he bucked him off, and they began chasing each other over the grass. They leapt. They jumped. They mouthed the other's frames playfully as they caught up to one another. They reared up again, one last time, coming back down nose to nose. Staring into the other's eyes with expressions that said it all, they nuzzled up in an embrace before continuing on to rub along each other's sides. As they came back around, doing the same on the opposite side, they lay down on the grass together, cuddling as their Souls sighed in utter relief and bliss. Skipper brought Dusty closer into him, hugging the little plane in his landing gear, singing to him softly.

"This beautiful carousel, this great ride. It takes me up, and down... Up... and down..."

Dusty smiled, closing his eyes and snuggling up into his Bonded Companion. He sighed, his Soul beaming with euphoric energy. Moments like these, though quite frequent, were still so precious. So revitalizing. He could say with secure certainty that Skipper was the most impactful, important person in his life; he was sure he probably would have never made it as far as he had, and could very well continue to go, without his influence and tutelage. It felt like it would last forever.

"I love you, Skipper..."

**Author's Note:**

> Very short but such a good example of how Aircraft can love more deeply, completely, and simply than any human will probably ever know, even in their more platonic relationships. Lyrics translated from the Stanislas song, "Le manège".


End file.
